A box of letters, all handwritten by Mei alone, was held tightly in the grasp of the torn girl herself. Soft brown curls hung desperately on the tops of her shoulders; stringy clumps sticking to her crimson coat.
It had rained that day, leaving the ground as well as the face of the girl, damp.
All that stood between her and the collection of her cherished memories, were pieces of flimsy enveloping folded neatly into twenty-three separate rectangles, each addressed to that of a girl by the name of Rose.
Mei sighed deeply; her breath parted and unsteady, as she bent down on the cold, murky dirt.
Gently, she placed the small box along with the letters where her best friend was kept.
And just like that, the box, the letters, and Rose, disappeared from her sight into the vast Earth.
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YOU ARE READING
Letters to Rose,
Short Story[Third Place in The Dreaming Awards 2018] Dear Rose, ironic how the heart always wants what it is forbidden to have. love - mei © TototroInTheRain
